


On a Field of Red

by Talagan_Silvertongue



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Daervunn (Mentioned), Gen, No knowledge of LOTRO at all necessary, This is technically in the world of Lord of the Rings Online but, no slash sex or violence, so I'm not going to tag it., the only reference is a brief mention of Daervunn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-18
Updated: 2021-03-18
Packaged: 2021-03-27 19:34:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30127764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Talagan_Silvertongue/pseuds/Talagan_Silvertongue
Summary: After the Battle of the Fields of Pelennor, Aragorn searches for the friend he lost sight of in the fighting. Very short one-shot.
Relationships: Aragorn | Estel & Halbarad
Kudos: 2





	On a Field of Red

Ash and the scent of blood were heavy on the air, choking all present. Aragorn jogged through the carnage that was the Field of Pelennor. The dark walls of Minas Tirath could be seen in the heavy gloom, but that was not where he was headed. He was searching for someone. He had lost sight of Halbarad in the Easterling charge and now, after all the fighting was over, he couldn’t fight him. Panic and the bitter edge of grief left from the day drove him onward, despite the mind-numbing weariness that threatened to drag him down. He didn’t dare to call out, for stray enemies might still be wandering in this mire, and he was alone. The Grey Company were camped for the moment outside the walls, and he knew Daervunn would handle everything until he (hopefully) found Halbarad. The admittedly high chance that his friend had been killed lurked just beyond the edge of his mind, but he stubbornly ignored it. The ground was littered with the dead, both enemy and ally. And with every one he checked the fear that he would find someone he knew rose and fell, until the mental strain began to tell on him. It was for this reason that when he heard a familiar voice faintly calling his name, he swore he was imagining it.

The voice rose above the arid wind, still strong despite its hoarseness. For a moment, Aragorn stood frozen, his numbed mind uncomprehendingly wondering what someone was doing out here. Then it hit him. “Halbarad. Halbarad!” The strangled whisper turned to a shout as he set off running in the direction of his friend’s voice, calling as he went. “Where are you?” Halbarad’s voice came again, this time from behind the arrow-ridden body of a fallen Mûmak. Dashing around it, Aragorn fell heavily to his knees beside the bloody form of his friend. Halbarad was leaning against the back of the Mûmak, his torso and left arm full of clumsily bandaged stab wounds. The right side of his face was cut up and almost black with bruises, and his right arm and leg were both broken. He was conscious and somewhat lucid though, for a tired smile slid across his face when he saw Aragorn. “Knew you’d… find me eventually.” He said, and Aragorn attempted a wan smile that turned into more of a grimace as he quickly examined his friend’s wounds. “Of course I did. The moment I turned my back, you nearly got yourself killed… here, lean on me,” Aragorn tried to disguise the slight shaking in his hands as he expertly re bandaged the numerous woulds covering his friend’s body. He couldn’t hide the tenseness in his face as he worked, though. Halbarad’s condition was bad, they both knew, and how on earth they would get back to camp, which was ten miles away at the least, was a worrying question. For now, though, Aragorn couldn’t feel anything but relief that he’d reached his friend in time. Halbarad would live to fight another day, and that was what was important here.


End file.
